


Rubble (The No Place Like Home Remix)

by Moontyger



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homecomings aren't all they're cracked up to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rubble (The No Place Like Home Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Crushed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/496809) by [owlmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose). 



This wasn't exactly the homecoming she'd imagined. 

Of course, if she were honest with herself, mostly it had been better than she'd expected. Kasia had walked into Orzammar and no one had clapped her in irons or thrown her out on her ass. No one had told her to get back to Dust Town where she belonged. Not only that, they'd treated her with respect, even asked her - a brand they'd have spit on not so long ago - to help decide who should be king. As if she knew anything about Orzammar politics beyond 'Casteless don't count'!

And Rica wasn't just doing well, she was the consort of one of those candidates. Kasia's nephew might one day sit on the throne his mother's family hadn't been considered good enough to even be in the same room with, much less touch. 

It was more than Kasia had ever dreamed possible when they were growing up in Dust Town and barely scraping by. Back then, she'd thought breaking heads for Beraht kept Rica safe, left her free to try to find a patron because Kasia was around to play the thug. Now, she wondered if maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe she'd been holding Rica back instead of protecting her.

And if that were true, she was fine with that. Happy about it, even. Kasia had had no real choice about leaving; she was glad things hadn't fallen apart in her absence. And she wasn't exactly complaining about finally being treated as though she deserved respect, even if she thought she'd never be able to truly get used to it.

But she'd never expected to have to kill her best friend.

Even when she'd realized what he'd done, that he'd betrayed her and sent her into a trap, she'd thought Leske would surrender, beg for the mercy he hadn't offered her. She'd expected him to count on their shared past to speak louder than what he'd done. But even though she couldn't remember the moment of his death clearly, didn't know who'd struck the fatal blow, Kasia knew he'd never spoken a word to stay anyone's hand. She'd have heard if he had.

For once, Leske had been full of surprises.

And that was strange, _wrong_ in a way she couldn't explain. Had she truly been gone so long?

Kasia searched his pockets, stared at his body until her eyes burned, but she found no answers, nothing to explain what he'd done. It was like he'd wanted this.

Maybe he had. Because if she thought about it, what other choice did he really have? Once he'd gone this far, at least, instead of giving her the genuine warning that might have given her more options. If she'd pardoned him, what then? Would she have brought him with her, taken him to fight the darkspawn? Leske might have played the heavy for the Carta, but he was no soldier. That death might have been far worse than this one. And the fate he'd have earned if she'd left him behind, Jarvia's second minus his protector, wouldn't have been much better.

This end: head smashed in at the hands of his friend and her companions, might have been the best he was going to get. Kasia thought it and acknowledged the truth in the thought, but she hated it just the same.

* * *

Zevran leaned against the palace wall, ignoring the way the cold stone chilled his back even through his armor, and faked a nonchalance he could never actually feel anywhere he stood out so much. It was true that he was no stranger to attention, but he'd never cared for the sort of stares their small group got from the dwarves who passed by: cold, closed expressions that made it clear they didn't fit in and weren't actually welcome.

It was not, of course, strictly a relevant concern at the moment. He was here in Orzammar on business, yes, but not the sort to which he was accustomed. For all the suspicion, for once he didn't actually deserve it, and he let that knowledge add a little sincerity to the smile he offered in return for each and every glare. It was a harmless amusement, nothing more, but it served to pass the time.

It was a better use of that time, at least in Zevran's opinion, than the quiet conversation Alistair and Wynne were having. He understood their concern; it wasn't like Kasia to leave them behind cooling their heels while she went elsewhere. But he failed to see what talking about it behind her back would accomplish. If she wished to tell them, she would, and if she chose to keep her silence, who were they to question? They all had their secrets.

Besides, he had seen her face. Not here, when she went to speak with her sister, but before, in the room where they had killed the Carta boss who thought to eliminate them. The dwarves there were nothing to Zevran, just more targets to eliminate, but after, he'd seen the way Kasia looked at one of them. She'd tried to keep her face hard, her expression as blank as the stone dwarves revered so much, but Zevran knew that look. How could he not? It was the look of one who had been betrayed by a friend and who had repaid that betrayal with death. No one trained by the Crows could be a stranger to it.

But he had said nothing and he would to continue to say nothing unless she brought it up. That sort of grief was a private matter; only a fool would intrude. And while Zevran had been known to be foolish in his time, his folly was not of that sort.

He wasn't surprised when Kasia led them to their camp that night rather than staying within the city, nor when she approached him by the campfire. There were others she could have turned to and each would have offered their own sort of comfort, but none so well equipped to understand this particular pain.

When she finally accepted his proposition and invited him to her bed on this night of all nights, that seemed merely natural. Zevran knew this form of comfort well, both as one trained to offer it and as one inclined to use it himself. And of course this meant he was experienced enough to know just how to make someone forget their troubles for a time, even if he did say so himself.

After, however, he looked at Kasia, shoulders creeping toward her ears with renewed tension even now, sprawled in her tent in what should have been satisfied afterglow, and thought perhaps words were in order after all. Perhaps he was getting old or perhaps she did not have as much practice with putting aside unpleasantness for the enjoyment of merely physical pleasures as he did. But whatever she needed, he was willing to supply it. Hadn't he promised as much?

“It is said that there is no place like home,” he began, “but I have always thought this incomplete. There is no place like home, yes, because there is nowhere else we long for while away, but then immediately wish to leave once we arrive.”

Kasia rolled over onto her side and propped her head up on one hand. “Don't you want to return home, then?”

“Ah, well. There is the small matter that they will kill me if I do.” But that wasn't a real answer and tonight, Kasia deserved better than that. “What can I say? Yes, but also no. I miss the smell of the sea and the taste of Antivan brandy and a good fish stew. But these are minor things. Beyond that, Antiva has nothing to offer me now.” Nothing, that was, except revenge, but that was much colder company than this.

Kasia collapsed onto her back and stared at the ceiling of her tent. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“But it is not so bad. The world is large and there are many other fine places to visit. Once we are done with your business here, of course.”

“You know, don't you?” Kasia still wasn't looking at Zevran, but her tone was flat, resignation clear in every word.

He didn't, of course, or not the specifics, but that hardly mattered. But Zevran stuck to his plan of pretending ignorance of anything she didn't volunteer. If Kasia had wanted to talk about it, wanted comforting words and promises of time healing all wounds, she would have chosen another companion tonight. “Know? What do you mean?”

She snorted and sat up. “Forget it. But I'm not going to talk about it. Tonight, there's only thing you can do for me.”

Zevran reached for her then, grasping her waist and pulling her on top of him. “As always, I am only too happy to oblige.”


End file.
